Of Broken Hearts From Bullet Holes
by Collie
Summary: Spike and Buffy share their one and only tender moment during Buffy's death.


TITLE: Of Broken Hearts From Bullet Holes.   
AUTHOR: Collie.   
EMAIL: fiendishthingee@aol.com   
RATING: PG-13. Language.   
FEEDBACK: It's what makes the world go 'round.   
SUMMARY: Spike and Buffy share their one and only tender moment during Buffy's death.   
SPOILERS: None.   
DISTRIBUTION: YGTS?, Through My Eyes, and MH:FFTS, if Trina wants it. Anyone else, just let me know.   
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I just make them do stupid pet tricks for the amusement of others.   
NOTES: Answer to challenge #66 at YGTS? This is a compainion piece to Trina's story, 'Of Bullet Holes Through Broken Hearts' (http://www.geocities.com/vanillaslayer/fiction/bulletholesbrokenhearts.html), re-written from Spike's POV. It can be read as an individual story, but you should read Trina's story, damnit, because without it, this one wouldn't exist. :)   
DEDICATION: To Trina for proposing it and writing such a sob-worthy story in the first place, and to Simoun for pulling me out of my slump with the most flattering feedback on a story I've ever recieved.   
  
  
I don't understand winos and paper bags.   
  
I mean, I can understand the thought behind it. They wanna hide the fact that they're a bunch of soddin' hopeless drunks who only spange money to buy horribly cheap booze, so they hide those bottles of cheap booze in a paper bag. But, you still know what's in the paper bag, so it just makes them all that more pathetic.   
  
What's even more pathetic is me, the former Big Bad, staring at some bum lyin' on a bench, my hands all clenched up in my duster pockets because I want to rip that bagged-up bottle out of his hands, take a good swill, and then rip his throat out. Nothing compliments blood like a good swallow of Night Train.   
  
Actually, no. *Nothing* goes with Night Train. That stuff's just bleedin' awful. Tastes like anti-freeze and rancid grape juice.   
  
It's not even that that's got me sulking tonight. What I want is a good strong drink, and I want it now. Unfortunately, the only bloody place to get one around here is The Bronze, Mecca for teeny boppers, boy-band worshippers, underage letchers-in-training, and the Slayer and her damn Scoobies.   
  
Not that I'd mind gettin' an eyeful of the Slayer tonight. She can always lift my spirits.   
  
Among other things.   
  
So, with a huff and an eye-roll, I'll make my way to The Bronze. Not that I'm happy about it, mind you. Nope, not in the least. I hate the Slayer. Really. I mean it. God, I can't even think in exclamation points. Okay, so maybe I don't *hate* her, but I don't bloody well like her. Okay, maybe I like her a little -- Oh, sod it.   
  
Oh, look -- a can. I can play bloody kick-the-can. At least cans don't have fluffy feelings. It's one of the few things left I *can* still kick.   
  
*Kick*   
  
Cor, if they could see me now.   
  
*Kick*   
  
Oh, minions.. where are you? Come take the piss out on your former pinnacle of evil and destruction. You can play soddin' kick-the-can with me, and then maybe we can go flit around like ponces at the park and push eachother on the bloody swings. Oh, hoo-ra.   
  
*KICK*   
  
Oh, bugger. There's goes my can. Sigh. Oh well. I'm not too far from The Bronze. It's right around the --   
  
Bloody hell.   
  
I know that smell. Very well. It's not something you forget.   
  
Oh, God. It can only be connected to one girl.   
  
Oh fuck. She's bleeding. She's lying in a fucking alley, bleeding to death. Believe me, I can tell when someone's bleeding to death. She's not gonna bloody make it. Oh fuckin' hell. What am I gonna do?   
  
It wasn't supposed to end this way.   
  
"Fuck, Slayer, what happened?"   
  
She's not answering me. She's just starin' up at the sky, her eyes all glazed, her lips moving like she's mutterin' to herself. Damnit, I have to get her attention.   
  
"Slayer, pet, say something."   
  
Her blood is on my hands, and surprisingly enough, tasting it is the furthest thing from my mind. She's like a bag of bones in my arms, all light and broken.   
  
Bloody fucking hell.   
  
She's freezing. Sure, the night is chilly, but I'm talking goosepimply-cold-sweat-freezing. If she feels cold to me, a vampire whose been living off of bagged blood, then there's nothing I can bloody do to help her now.   
  
Except.. no. She'd never.   
  
Her head is lolling against my chest, and I can tell she's trying to lift it. She's always been so bleedin' persistent, this one. Can't even give in, even when she knows there's no reason to try.   
  
Oh crap. I can't believe I just thought that. It pretty much makes it true.   
  
The Slayer is going to die in my arms tonight.   
  
Poetic, don't you think?   
  
So I shake her. I'm not letting her leave until I hear her voice one last time, even if she tells me to fuck off.   
  
"Buffy? Buffy, can you hear me? Say something."   
  
Her eyes spark with recognition. Her beautiful green eyes. Clouded with pain and dying. I clench my jaw against the stinging I feel behind my eyes. I know I'm going to end up getting all weepy, but I don't bloody care. It should have been me to take the Slayer out of this world. This.. bullet.. it's such a cheap way to die for a creature so magnificent as Buffy Summers. She should have gone out in a fucking blaze of glory, or in a moment of exquisite passion in my arms.   
  
"Spike?"   
  
I tense. Her voice is soft and weak. Choked. Her eyes focus and she's looking at my face. Oh, bugger. Her come the bloody tears.   
  
"Spike, I need to tell you something and I need you to stay quiet so I can get it all out, okay?"   
  
I nod, smoothing her beautiful golden hair from her face, remembering the way it looked before it was all sticky and caked with blood and grit from the alley.   
  
"I need you to hold out for me, pet. I want to tell you something, too."   
  
God, I sound like such a nonce. All choked-up and trembly. But, for some reason, I don't care in front of her. She's leaving me, and I want her to know the truth.   
  
"I.. I love you, Spike. As much as I've denied it, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. And now that I'm dying, I regret so much that I didn't tell you before."   
  
Oh, God. Those words shoot a pain through my heart that hurts more than any stake ever could. No. It's not bloody fair!   
  
I clench up her jacket in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut, cursing inwardly at the rebel tear that drips from the corner of my eye and lands on my hand. No point in keeping it my myself any longer. She admitted it to me, and I'll admit it to her. And then, I will find whoever dared take this light from the world and kill them.   
  
I will end them.   
  
"Buffy, I love you too. And I *will* kill whoever did this to you."   
  
I let out an unconscious growl, anger and pain rumbling in my chest. I realize that I'm shaking. So many bloody emotions coursing through me. Emotions that are all somehow the fault of this tiny dying girl in my arms.   
  
God, I've gone soft.   
  
She says my name again, and it's like the sweetest honey to my ears. I watch her lips tremble as she says it, and all I want to do is to kiss them.   
  
So I do, and it's like bliss. The taste of her and the taste of her blood.. this must be what heaven feels like. The closest I'm ever bound to get, at any rate, so enjoy it while I can, right? Who would stop us now? Who could be so cruel as to deny us this last bittersweet kiss?   
  
A kiss before dying.   
  
A kiss..   
  
Oh. And the thought returns. Maybe.. just maybe.. Oh, the sweet thought of having her by my side for all time. Hell, I'd even consent to having her all souled. I have to try. I pull my lips away, and it's the hardest thing I've ever done.   
  
"Will you let me?"   
  
I know she understands. I also know the answer.   
  
"No."   
  
I nod. I had to try. But at least I have this. These last few moments, sweeter than any dream, and even though they are fleeting, they belong only to me and my Slayer.   
  
"I love you.."   
  
I crush her to me as the words leave my lips. I brush her glorious hair with my nose, inhaling the essence that is pure Buffy. No blood, no alleyway dirt.. just her.   
  
"Beautiful. You're so beautiful.."   
  
My tears leak into her hair, with every choking breath she takes. I want her to let go, because I know she's hanging on only for me.   
  
"I love you.."   
  
Let go, Slayer.   
  
"I love you."   
  
Good-bye, Buffy.   
  
I feel her chest rise as she takes one last breath, her words so soft, they float away on the night breeze, but not before I catch them and lock them away in my heart.   
  
"I love you, Spike."   
  
And I kiss her good-bye, and it's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.   
  



End file.
